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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478292">Rising Flames</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rycbar_11/pseuds/Mabel%20L%20Bennett'>Mabel L Bennett (rycbar_11)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>100th Hunger Games, Gen, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:03:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rycbar_11/pseuds/Mabel%20L%20Bennett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi, my name is Maysillee. I am the daughter, and first born, of Katniss Everdeen, 'the girl on fire', and Peeta Mellark, 'the boy with the bread'. It is said that my parents, with the help of the districts (1-13) defeated President Snow, and destroyed his hunger games. They were among the few victors who survived the attacks of nightmarish monsters.</p><p>But now the Hunger Games have returned.<br/>And this time, I'm a contender.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. My Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My siblings and I live in Victors Village with our parents, Haymitch and occasionally Grandma. She doesn't live with us permanently because it brings back memories of Grandpa and Auntie Prim. Both died long before I was born.</p>
<p>Mum and Grandma sob a lot, and I don't interfere. I just try and stop Marlo, Rue, Archer and Maya from getting near them. They make it worse.</p>
<p>I have 2 male siblings and 2 female. Sadly, all of them are years younger than me, except for Rue. </p>
<p>I am the oldest, - 13 - sadly this means when my parents are busy, I have to look after the rest of them.</p>
<p>Next in line is Rue, she's 9 and one of my besties.</p>
<p>After her, there's the twins, Marlo and Archer. At 7 they are cheeky and extremely annoying.</p>
<p>Then, of course, there's the 'innocent' 2 year old, Maya. I swear, she is trying to ruin my life.</p>
<p>Another extension of our family is Haymitch. He's a drunk who was mum and dad's mentor for their games. Archer and Marlo think he's awesome, but he becomes irritated at us really easily.</p>
<p>Outside of our family, I have friends from different districts who I don't see that often. My friends include; Zeva, Posy's daughter; Cora, Gale's daughter; Laini, Johanna Masson's daughter; and Alex, Annie Cresta and (the deceased) Finnick Odair's son.</p>
<p>Laini and I have been besties since we were 4 (9 years) and I'm actually really good friends with her mum Johanna Mason. That stunned mum.</p>
<p>I've learnt medical skills from grandma, axe throwing from Johanna, how to use a trident from Annie and Alex (who is almost 25, but still our friend) and I'm strong from the work dad puts me through at the bakery. I have also learnt how to mastermind traps like Gale does. Mum says I inherited his 'gift'. </p>
<p>Then there's Sundays, when Katniss and I go hunting in the woods by the meadow where I used to play. Mum taught me how to shoot straight and now I'm almost as good as her. </p>
<p>Every time we go back past the meadow mother loses her excitement, energy and feeling of freedom. Part of its because of my brother. No, Marlo and Archer aren't that terrible. My brother, who would have been 14 now, was a still born. He never had a name.</p>
<p>My whole family has; either blond or black hair; another variant blue or grey eyes. I have black hair and grey eyes, just like Katniss. Haymitch, Gale and Peeta have a joke running that I'm going to cause all sorts of mayhem when I get older.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Announcement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After days of seeing trucks pulling into the district, unannounced and strange, our television comes on, without anyone touching it. Mum walks into the lounge room to turn it off, when a voice boomed through the speakers, echoing around the house as the speaker declared; "May the 100th Hunger Games and 4th Quarter Quell be an exciting one." </p>
<p> I usher the others to bed and rush back down stairs to Katniss, who is just staring blankly at the screen as it cuts to an important looking woman with an envelope in hand that reads "100th".</p>
<p> She slowly opened the envelope, removing the note with such ease it was evident she had practiced, making slow, precise movements, savouring the moment. </p>
<p> She began to speak in a loud, commanding voice. "After the second rebellion, the Capitol slowly regained its feet, without the help of the districts, and will now rule over Panem once more." She then broke out of that respect demanding voice, and instead replaced it with a childlike tone, like she had just gotten a toy that she wanted. "Also, we decided to to skip the games that we missed, and fittingly the first games to be held will be the 4th Quarter Quell!" She then gathered herself again as she continued, looking down at the card in her hand for confirmation. She cleared her throat and then went on, "To show that those outside our age limit died thanks to the rebellion," my mind flashes to Aunt Prim, who died at the age I am, "the age of children in the reaping will be extended for these games. They shall be extended from 8 to 20," she smiles, not a cheerful thing, but one of malice and cruelty. " In addition, each district shall offer up 6 tributes; 3 female, 3 male." </p>
<p> Her smile falters, "Sadly, I have been informed that our population is minuscule as it is, so there shall be buttons placed around the arena, that have been prepared, each with a hovercraft. Each button, however, requires a key. The key shall be the same colour as the button," she smirks," but that does not mean it will be easy to find." </p>
<p> And with that she leaves the stage, with wild applause and cheering emerging when the camera turns to the audience. Smiling faces and laughing figures. They don't seem to understand how much death they will cause. Or maybe they do.</p>
<p>🌸🌺🌸</p>
<p>After about 10 minutes, Katniss breaks out of her trance and turns off the TV. Then she goes into a crazy, aggravated act of anger and confusion. "8 to 20?! No child under the age of 15 could survive against 20 year olds, or even 71 other tributes, let alone an 8 year old!"</p>
<p>Something must click in her mind because she turns to me with a look of utter terror on her face, and she whispers quickly, urgently to me, almost to fast for me to hear, "wake Rue and tell her to come to me immediately without waking the others. Then..." her voice is breathy like she has just gone on a long run and is gasping for air. While I am noticing this, she continues her urgent rant, "...go find your father, I need to speak with him to." </p>
<p>Racing up the stairs to do as Katniss asks, my brain kicks into gear, and I know what's happening. </p>
<p>My name is going to be in the female reaping ball. So is Rue's.</p>
<p>And Mum and Dad will be the mentors. I hope, for their sake, as well as ours, that neither myself nor Ace get picked. </p>
<p>I wake Rue and tell her to go see Mum, but my mind is elsewhere, trying to think of how the Capitol could do this. They don't own the districts anymore. </p>
<p>Then my thoughts fade away to one point, one image, one idea. The trucks, unmarked and unannounced, carrying who knows what. But they were Capitol trucks, filled with peacekeepers, weapons and most likely television equipment for the reapings. </p>
<p>I hear the crackle of the television as it turns on again, and see Katniss trying to turn it off, unsuccessfully. The voice that began this horrible nightmare booms again through the speakers. "The reapings will take place tomorrow morning in the district squares so that the children are ready for what awaits. This may well be the most exciting games yet!" I reach the door, eager to get out and to the bakery, where Peeta is no doubt watching the same horror. I can almost hear the smile in the announcers voice as they push on, "As most people very well know, for each district the mentors are the most recent visitors of the games, and as the last games were a while ago, we may very well need reminding..." Then they burst into a list of names that I don't know. By this time I can hear the voice echoing from all the houses that I pass, and I have identified the announcer as a man, a Capitol man. </p>
<p>I start to identify names I know as the list goes on, Beetee, Annie Cresta and Alex Odair, Johanna Mason. Then the inevitable. "And of course, district 12, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark and Haymitch Abernathy." I hear a scream, originating from our house, bouncing around the district as if it were all a cave, magnifying the sound before it reaches my ears. People erupt from their houses and rush towards ours as I scurry away. Onwards always till I reach the bakery and complete Katniss' desire. I round the corner and sprint the last hundred meters to my destination.</p>
<p>I burst through the doors to the new bakery where dad works and nearly run into Gale who is staring at a screen with absolute horror and anger in his eyes. Both Peeta and Gale turn to look at me. </p>
<p>"We know, Maysillee. The television here switched on. We caught the announcement."</p>
<p>I speak quickly, rushing over words, confusing both men, so I force myself to slow down, "Mum says she need to speak to you." </p>
<p>"I can understand that." Peeta remarks over his shoulder as he leaves. </p>
<p>My braid had started to come undone as I ran, but I hadn't had time to fix it in the rush. Gale kneels down and helps me redo it.</p>
<p>"Cora and Zeva are in the district 2 reaping bowl. All we can do is hope, right?" Gale asks me, concern crossing his face.</p>
<p>"Alex has to mentor in Finnick's place. That won't be easy." I murmur, barely louder than a whisper.</p>
<p>Gale tries to laugh, failing that he continues speaking, "seems you and your friends are in for a rough ride."</p>
<p>The TV still playing what could be called a death sentence, we leave and I tear after Peeta.</p>
<p>I hear the last of the Capitol man's spiel as I walk into our house tagging along with Peeta, "Happy Hunger Games, and, may the odds be ever in your favour." The iconic, Capitol ritualistic lie. The odds are never in our favour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Reaping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All I can remember of that night before I went into a fitful, nightmare filled sleep, was the comforting tones and people murmuring little promises they can never keep; "None of your children will be picked. We'll make sure they don't." Mum was just brushing them off like dust, not really paying any attention but getting rid of them none-the-less with more small lies, "I'm all right, it was just a shock that's all." But I know it was deeper, stronger, more powerful than that, and that's what scares me. </p>
<p>Now I stand in the mist of the other 13 year old girls while Effie Trinket stands tall in front of us all, expensive dress and hairstyle glowing in the sunshine, blowing in the wind. But no amount of make-up and expansive refinery can hide the fear and sadness on her face, the dread in her eyes. </p>
<p>"For old times sake," that's what she had murmured to my parents as I was going off to bed. "The new President Snow has demanded I be the escort for district 12 again, for old times sake."</p>
<p>What I can read in her eyes now is an apology, a plead for forgiveness as she looks over the children standing in front of her. 8 - 20 year olds, cluttered together in the square below the stage, every one wanting to be further back. Every one knows about the Hunger Games, they teach it in history at school, so we all know how it works.</p>
<p>Effie straightens her stance and begins to speak, a high pitched sound that's sounds scripted and as if she was trained. <br/>"Soon, we shall pick the young boys and girls who will have, the honour," she says honour with a sickening tone to her voice, spitting it out like it tasted bad, before continuing, "of representing district 12 in the hundredth Hunger Games. But first, here is a very special film, all the way from the Capitol." A film begins, but I don't watch it, I'm looking at Mum, Dad and Haymitch, sitting up on the stage, staring out into the crowd, all with a dead look in their eyes. They don't want to do this any more than we do. They know what it's like, they know how it feels. </p>
<p>The film finishes, with a satisfying clunk. Effie comes back up to the microphone that stands precariously close to the edge of the stage, in between the reaping balls, that are over flowing with names. </p>
<p>Effie clears her throat to attract the attention of the crowd, and she begins with her typical starter, "As always, ladies first." Then she starts walking over to the female reaping ball with slow precision, as though she expects, maybe even hopes, that it will disappear, cease to exist. All I can think right now, not that my name is in there 6 times, but that Rue's name is in there - twice. But twice isn't enough to get picked, right? </p>
<p>Standing on the stage, Effie seems to be in her natural habitat, her rightful place in the world, but I can see the slight unease in her gestures, the way that she walks. As she pulls out the first name, I can see the minuscule hesitation, as if she is about to oppose the president and the games. If I didn't know her that well or didn't know the ease in which she does things, I might not have noticed.</p>
<p>Effie speaks loud and clear over the speakers, condemning the first person with her overseeing eyes "Heather Swarther" the booming voice echoes around the square as all the 16 year olds turn to one girl, standing in the middle who seems to be trying to hide in the heat of the other people. However, the others, turning her in step away from her, ever so slowly, clearing a space around her. I watch with pity as the girl crumples to the ground in tears. No one is going to offer to take her place, no one wants to die in her place. Peacekeepers march up to her, pulling her into a standing position as she sobs into the jumper that had encircled her hips only moments ago. Her calm and careful demeanour is replaced by all out crying as she is led up to the stage, the cameras following her the whole way. Our whole world is watching this slow progression of peacekeepers and our first tribute mounting the stage. </p>
<p>"A round of applause for district 12's first tribute, give her some faith." Effie gasps out the words, well practiced yet pushed out, like they tasted bad. The district people clapped politely around me, but I couldn't bring myself to applaud. She wouldn't survive and she knew it, I knew it. I couldn't clap for her murder. The fear in her eyes stops my senses; my vision encompasses only her and the fear that floods off her in waves. </p>
<p>I am snapped out of my trance by another name being called, another murder in progress, "Samantha Cheraboth, please come up to the stage." </p>
<p>A 20 year old hobbles out to the front. I can tell that she is trying to stand strong, trying to be powerful for the cameras. Even though she is hobbling and it's obvious she is in pain she is still attempting to get sponsors. They may be her only hope. </p>
<p>"Wonderful!" Effie seems to be drained, lost and powerless, but she continues none the less. "And our final female tribute is..." She grasps at one of the sheets of paper, slowly pulling it from the bowl as if she was trying to create suspense. She walks quickly back over to the microphone, making up for her lost time at the bowl. </p>
<p>She unfolds the sheet of paper, not really looking at it - sidetracked. As soon as she looks at the paper her breath catches in her throat, claps her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, sobbing. In that moment I know what it says. <br/>Tears in her eyes, she continues, as she knows she must, "Rue Everdeen."</p>
<p>My breath is non existent, all light shrinks into point in the nine year olds where Rue is standing. She is a small girl, still learning left from right, she'll never get out of there alive. </p>
<p>I know what I must do.</p>
<p>"No!" I call out over the crowd, people turning to me in shock. "No," I say it again as I walk out into the area aisle. Peacekeepers come to me, trying to block my way, but I push them aside. This is what has to be done. "No, she isn't a tribute. I am. I volunteer as a tribute." I look towards Rue. Her eyes show how thankful she is, and yet how afraid she is. "I volunteer to take her place."</p>
<p>"NO!!!" Rue is screaming out as she runs out to me, pushing through the protective layer of nine year olds. </p>
<p>"Rue, I have to do this. You still have so much life to live, so much to learn and live for."</p>
<p>"So do you." She is whimpering now, begging, pleading me. "I don't want to loose you."</p>
<p>"Sweety." I have moved into a kneeling position. I can feel all cameras on us. I don't need this, this is a private conversation. "Sweety, I'll always be with you." I put my hand on her chest before I continue, "I'll be in here, in your heart." I can almost here the 'awwws' from the Capitol here.</p>
<p>I move up onto the stage, standing with the other tributes, a few feet away from Effie.</p>
<p>"Next the boys."</p>
<p>Effie, drying her tears slowly, continues with the progression of the reaping, knowing that she must, no matter her pain and sadness. </p>
<p>"Wonderful," her voice is crackly and breaking as she speaks, "now for the boys." She wanders over to the boys bowl, still a bit out of it. Reaching her hand into the bowl, she picks off one of the top names. None of my other siblings can possibly be picked now. </p>
<p>"James Darbin." I know him, he's 20, he has a child  with Samantha Cheraboth . </p>
<p>He pulls out of the crowd, Samantha screaming his name from the stage, pleading with him to stop for anyone to volunteer for him, but nobody comes forward to take his place. One of Samantha's sisters is holding back their little boy, stopping him from rushing to his father. James has always been a mystery for most of the district, and judging by this performance - and most likely his death - he will probably stay that way. He is tall and strong for his age; working to survive does that to you. </p>
<p>His assent to the stage is quick and precise, letting Effie continue with her fine tuned torture. </p>
<p>"Next," she pulls another one from the ball, knowing she has made this child an orphan. She keeps that smile plastered on her face, refusing to let the horror of the Capitol rain down on the districts, before the games have even begun. "Liam Harper."</p>
<p>Another 20 year old. Outgoing, sweet and yet known for his deathly abilities. He smiles at the crowd as he walks out, standing tall, waving to the cameras. He will be someone to contend with in the games. </p>
<p>Effie waves him up, standing him next to James before continuing, "and finally," pulling one last entry from the ball, "Thomas Darbe." </p>
<p>Thomas Darbe, the class clown. Thomas Darbe, the first person to treat me like a friend at school. Thomas Darbe, 14 years old. Thomas Darbe, contender in the hunger games, my opponent. </p>
<p>"A round of applause for district 12's tributes!" Effie calls out to the crowd. Most people applaud, for the sake of the cameras. Some people don't, they just stand there. </p>
<p>That's when I think of it. The symbol of my mother, their appreciation of her volunteering. So I lifted my left hand and kissed the three middle fingers, raising it high in the air, whistling the tune mum taught Rue and I long ago. Four notes, sweet and simple. </p>
<p>Rue realises what I am doing and responds, singing the notes. Other people join in, whistling, singing, raising their hands in the air. </p>
<p>I feel a part of the district, maybe for the last time, before I am lead from the stage, following the rest of the tributes into the rooms where I will say my goodbyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Goodbyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room where I will say my goodbyes is beautifully furnished; two soft, red velvet couches sit in the centre of the room; lovely blue carpet lines the ground; a small carved coffee table stands next to the couches. I move over to one of the seats, sitting down, waiting for my last goodbyes to commence. I cannot cry. I cannot show fear in front of Rue - I must protect her from that pain for as long as possible. </p>
<p>The door to the room opens, revealing Rue, Archer, Marlo, Katniss - carrying Maya - and Peeta. In the doorway behind them stands Haymitch, watching our sorrowful farewell with pain in his eyes. </p>
<p>Rue speaks first, "Maysillee! You can't go! You'll die..." She has tears in her eyes, making them shine in the golden light of the room. </p>
<p>Mum comes up behind her, speaking to her, carefully, quietly. "Have some faith in her. She's strong."</p>
<p>"Rue, it's ok. Mum and Dad are going to be there the whole time. So will Haymitch. I've been taught many things, and there are those buttons around the arena, remember," she nods slowly, "I have a chance."</p>
<p>"But you'll try and win, right?" She looks up at me, pleading eyes. "Maybe you can." I nod. "You promise?" She asks me, begging with her eyes and her expression. </p>
<p>"I promise." I say to her, but not only to her, to all my family, especially to Katniss. </p>
<p>Katniss looks at me, then at Peeta. "Take the kids out."</p>
<p>Peeta ushers all my siblings out, saying goodbye to me as he goes. Katniss sits down in the other seat, looking at her hands for a while. Then, finally, she looks up at me, speaking clearly, making sure I understand. "You will try though won't you?"</p>
<p>"Of course, mum." I speak to her, truly believing that I could show her how sincere I was.</p>
<p>"Make sure you work hard. But don't let them change you."</p>
<p>"How would they change me?"</p>
<p>"It's just something that your father said to me before our first games, that he didn't want anything to change him." She smiles at the memory before continuing, "stay compassionate, stay strong. Try to survive, but don't let them change you." She smiles at me again, pats my knee, then stands up and leaves the room. </p>
<p>My mind keeps mulling over her last words, "don't let them change you."</p>
<p>I won't let them change me. I will prove to them I am not just a piece in their games. I am like my parents; brave, strong - rebellious. I won't let them change me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Effie's Goodbyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I've been left in this room for about 6 hours now, waiting to be escorted to the Capitol. 6 hours of torture, knowing I'm going to die soon, that my life is going to end earlier than expected. That my life will end in some cruel and malicious way…</p>
<p>My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. It's simple; three knocks, rest, then another two. <br/>"Come in..." My voice is crackly and broken from disuse, and a tinge of fear.</p>
<p>Effie's head pokes around the corner, smiling at me. I can read three expressions on her face; sorrow, remembrance and... Pride?</p>
<p>"Hey Effie. What can I do for you?" I'm asking politely but inside I really wish I could slap her, even once. I know she's my friend, but I need to hit someone right now. </p>
<p>"I just need you to know..." She shakes her head, her eyes tearing up as she speaks, "I never wanted this to happen. My life may be better and nicer when it's worse for you, but that's just the point. I've seen the torture and the fear of the tributes now, seen how they lived their lives during the era of the hunger games. I can't let you go back to that." At that she breaks down crying. I rush over to comfort her, to calm her down, but I know that nothing I can say will ever truly calm her down. </p>
<p>"I know it wasn't your fault Effie. I know."</p>
<p>She looks up at me suddenly, frightening me with her speed. "Do something brave. Do something that makes the Capitol look terrible, that makes fun of the Gamemakers." She stares at me right in the eye and repeats the simple saying that I will keep with me for the whole of the hunger games, whether I live or not; "rebel" </p>
<p>As quickly as it began, Effie's crazed phase is over. She exits the room, slowly, making every step count. When she's near the door she turns and glances at me, then the ground before saying, "Remember what your mother said. Don't let them change you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Train</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Golden chandeliers hang above me, swaying with the movement of the train. Effie sits at a table filing her nails, seemingly lost in thought. Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch are dispersed around the train; Haymitch reaching once again for his glass and the liquor; Peeta drawing on his hand at the table where Effie sits; Katniss has not been seen since we boarded the train. My fellow tributes sit fidgeting with the colourful fabrics that surround them. Heather is sulking in the corner of the room - clearly out of it, not prepared for the games - while James paces backwards and forwards in the carriage, no doubt worrying about his son, whom may end up an orphan in a matter of weeks. </p><p>"We need a plan." Thomas speaks up, surprising everyone out of their lost and sad states. </p><p>"We?" James scoffs at the prospect. "Have you never heard of the Hunger Games boy? One winner. Only one." He glances over at Samantha as he speaks, the sadness in his eyes echoed all around his face. </p><p>Thomas stands up, making himself look taller. He is fairly tall for his age. "Yes, we. We all need to work together if we want to have any chance in winning."</p><p>James, still towering over Thomas, continues his side of the argument. "Oh yeah? And how exactly do you propose we all get out of there alive, huh? How?"</p><p>"We don't." Thomas's simple tone shocks me. </p><p>"Then we don't work together. Simple." James wanders back over to where he was pacing before, continuing his journey backwards and forwards.</p><p>"Yes we do." My voice seems to echo around the room, even though I was quiet and not intending to speak.</p><p>"What?" Thomas and James both question me, confused as they are. Every one else has turned to stare at me. </p><p>"Never mind, it was a stupid idea."</p><p>Thomas walks over to me, intently. My heart speeds up as he gets closer and talks, "Speak up."</p><p>"No, it doesn't matter." </p><p>"Yes it does! Any idea is a good one at this point."</p><p>"Shut up! You're both idiots if you think there is any way we are all going to get out of this alive." James shouts at us from across the room. My eyes start getting teary. I've held too much in.</p><p>I rush out of the dinning carriage and into the carriage I share with all the girls. As I go I run into Katniss, who seems to have just finished crying. "What's wrong?" She's asking me quietly, letting me calm down, but it doesn't help. </p><p>"The hunger games." </p><p>"I know. I know." Katniss leans down and gives me a hug before continuing, "Now you need some rest before we get to the Capitol. There are ravenous hordes of fans just waiting for you to arrive." She smiles at that. I smile back.</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>I walk back into the dinning carriage a few hours later - after having a nap - to see Thomas sitting in one of the chairs, seemingly waiting for something or someone. </p><p>"Thomas, it's 5:30am. Why are you up?"</p><p>He turns and looks at me. It is evident that he hasn't slept yet. </p><p>"I was waiting for you to come back." He looks down at his shoes, "I wanted to make sure you were ok."</p><p>I smile at him. Sweet. That's what he is, always has been. "Thanks, but you didn't need to stay up. You could have found out when you woke up in the morning."</p><p>He shrugs his shoulders, sitting in the spinning chair closest to him.</p><p>I sit in the chair opposite him, concerned at his lack of sleep. "You should get some rest. We'll be in the Capitol soon."</p><p>He has short, dark brown hair that, at the moment is mused everywhere. His sea green eyes are drooping and glazed, like he has been crying. "Are you ok? You seem upset."</p><p>"Just a bit homesick that's all. And I was worried about y..." He drops off the last word. </p><p>"Come on now, go to sleep. No one's going to kill you in your sleep till you get in the arena." I'm smirking, but I'm trying to be serious. </p><p>"Fine."</p><p>After about ten minutes he drops off to sleep. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. I just hope he won't have to sleep forever.</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>An hour later light is filtering in through the windows as we approach the gate to the Capitol. I wake Thomas so that he can see the 'ravenous hordes of fans' at the train station. </p><p>And that's exactly what it is. Ravenous hordes. Thousands of people, swarming into the train station, pushing others out of the way to get a glimpse of us coming in. Thomas smiles and waves at the people, preparing for the games. That's when it hits me. We are still enemies, still could be the murderer of the other.</p><p>We exited the train about an hour ago, but we are still wading through the crowd. I bump into people as I go, apologising honestly, trying to think of something that will avert my mind from this sweaty, disgusting crush, but only one thing comes to mind - I can't let them change me.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. My Stylist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bright lights. That's all I saw as they ripped the hair from my legs, 'beautifying me.' They - my 'prep team' - led me into a room that was almost completely empty except for a steel bed with nothing on it. </p>
<p>Even now it's cold to the touch, making me shiver under the sameness of the roof. I can hear ringing from outside, like there are bells tolling through the building.</p>
<p>The door opens after what seems like a lifetime. I turn my head to see a woman who appears no more than 30 or 35 years old wander in, chin held high. She has gold eyeshadow and a bronze completion, dark clothes setting off her bright eyes, glittering with what appear to be tears. </p>
<p>"You remind my of your mother, bravery shows in your posture and face." She laughs to herself for a moment then continues, "and of course you look like a younger copy of her." </p>
<p>I smile at her before sitting up and whispering, "did you know my mother? Like before the rebellion?" </p>
<p>Her face lifts slightly as she shakes her head. "No. No, I didn't know her... But my father did." She glances up at me as she says the last bit. "He was like me. A stylist. Her stylist..." She smiles sadly. </p>
<p>Shock rippled through me. "Cinna was your father?" </p>
<p>She swallowed and looked up at me, wiping away what appeared to be tears. "Yes..." She gathers herself, "my name is Kafiata. I'm going to be your stylist." </p>
<p>I shuffle forward on the table, making squeaking noises ask do so. "So what are we doing?" </p>
<p>That's when she smiles with such joy that it seems to light up the room. </p>
<p>"Well, as I said, you remind me of your mother, an almost perfect copy, volunteering and all." She moves towards the table and sits next to me. "We're going to give your own name, but just remind people of your heritage." </p>
<p>She grins at me, and I beam back. This is going to be fun.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Chariot Ride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flowing black dress Kafiata dressed me in has beautiful streaks of red and gold, though she's put as little makeup on me as possible. I have what appear to be wings strapped to my arms, but are at this point folded behind my back. My hair feels weird out and spilling down my back. I don't usually wear it out. </p>
<p>I look around at the chariots; because there are so many of us the game makers have decided to have everyone in their own chariot, let everyone have their own glory. We will go out in order of when we were picked, but with the boys in front of the girls... So I'll be last.</p>
<p>"Maysillee!" I turn to see Thomas running towards me in a coal black tuxedo, which I guess is the point. He stops when he reaches me, looking at what I'm wearing. "Well, you look... Amazing." He smiles at me then, that beaming smile that makes my heart melt. </p>
<p>"Thanks," I mumble, trying to hide a blush. "You're looking pretty snazzy yourself," looking at him now, I don't know how anyone could want to kill this kid. Let alone me. </p>
<p>He speaks then, bringing me out of my daydream, "Don't let yourself fall out of that carriage of yours, there's no one behind you to catch you if you fall. Just remember I..." He gets cut off by someone calling his name across the 'courtyard', his stylist no doubt, and he turns to call out to them that he's coming. The he turns back to me, looking rueful. "I gotta go, but you look fantastic. I'll see you later, yeah?" </p>
<p>I nod at him and he rushes off just as Kafiata struts up to me, clearly proud of her handy work. </p>
<p>"You know if you don't want him to know you fancy him, you need to hide your blushing better." She smirks when I feel my face heat up. "I'm just kidding with you. Now," she looks at me with a new expression; professionalism. "When you get in that chariot it'll be a while before you go out, but be patient, when you get out there you will dazzle them!"</p>
<p>I feel the corners of my mouth twitch upwards, "with your design." </p>
<p>"And your personality shining out. Not only a reincarnation but a beauty all of your own. Don't doubt yourself. But now, you need to do something for me. To make your costume really amaze them you need to lift your arms up high, but not to early. Ok?"</p>
<p>I nod to her, as the order rings around the area to board our chariots. It's about to begin. </p>
<p>After about fifteen minutes my chariot starts to roll forwards. We are going to parade all around the Capitol, just so the district 1 people aren't at the end when I've only just started. I steel myself for the onslaught of cheering and screaming from the audience. Tonight is my night to shine. Or burn. Depend on how you see it.</p>
<p>There are screens all around the city, so no matter how long we've been going for, everyone can see us. Everyone. It's only about halfway through the parade that I remember what Kafiata said about raising my arms, so that's what I do. I raise my arms as high as I can, lifting the things strapped to my arms with them. </p>
<p>Wings. Definitely wings. I can see them now, huge, engulfing most of my peripheral vision, bright orange, red, yellow. As I notice the wings spreading out, feathers and all, my dress bursts into flames, or fake flames, as they seem to be. They aren't burning me, hurting at all, or even burning away the fragile fabric of the dress, which if I remember rightly, was highly flammable. </p>
<p>The crowd around me erupts into cheers, and I look to see what they are cheering for. That's when I realise it's me. I'm on the huge screens, flames and all, my wings like an angel's, glowing around me. </p>
<p>I look in front of me, at all the other district 12 people. They are staring up at the screen mouths open. I smile, feeling braver than ever as we roll into the courtyard in front of the lectern where President Snow will speak. </p>
<p>I lower my wings as I pull up, and the flames simmer away into nothingness, as if they had never been there. My chariot is next to Thomas's, and he turns his head and grins at me. </p>
<p>"Good job. You looked spectacularly snazzy up there." He's repeating what I said to him; snazzy. <br/>"You didn't do to bad yourself" I call over the noise.</p>
<p>That's when she appears. President Snow. Standing all proud of herself and believes what she is doing is the right thing. But she is wrong. So very, very wrong. </p>
<p>"Welcome. Welcome tributes to the 100th annual Hunger Games. We acknowledge your bravery and your courage." She seems to look straight down at me, "may the odds be EVER in your favour." <br/>The anthem plays, and she is gone, crowd cheering. The carriages start to roll off and out of sight of the city. We are free of their stares. At least for now. I won't let them change me. But they doesn't mean I can't change them a little.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Penthouse</h2></a>
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    <p>Shimmering lights outside the window of my room. They seem to wink at me, tempting me to jump off the 12th floor to them.</p>
<p>Effie had been extremely excited about the living quarters. Apparently they are different every single year, with a whole new building and everything. She showed us our rooms, the elegant velvet of the sheets in my room a lush purple to accent the pale pink walls and starlit blue carpet. All of it was beautiful, in its menacing way. I know we only get these luxuries to weaken us, make us expect more, so that when we are in the games we are more desperate, more pitiful. </p>
<p>"Maysillee! Are you coming out to dinner or not?" Effie shrill tone is so normal, it almost makes me think all of this was a horrible nightmare. Almost. </p>
<p>"Coming," I call, quickly scrubbing off the last of the makeup from my face. I changed about an hour ago, hanging my exquisite dress in the cupboard by my bed. I'm now in simple black clothes; a long-sleeved black top and some black tights to match, my hair wrapped up in a bun behind my head, and some black slippers to warm my feet. </p>
<p>Wandering out to dinner I see the television, still running the reapings and the parade, over and over again, showing me lifting my wings, and, like I'd struck a match, blazing up like a bonfire. </p>
<p>Effie sits at the head of the table, Katniss and Peeta to her right and Haymitch to her left. Then there were the other tributes; James and Samantha sitting side by side, obviously holing hands under the table; Liam comforting Heather from his spot at the other end of the table; and Thomas, sitting calmly two seats away from Katniss. Everyone turns to face me as I enter, then returns to talking about the games as take my place between Katniss and Thomas. </p>
<p>"... So, as I said, if we all take two tributes, one girl and one boy, we could work quicker, and maybe we can switch them round so we can bring out the best in all of them." Haymitch sounds worryingly sober. Something is stressing him, yet he isn't drinking it away. Then I realise. He's trying to persuade my parents that he should mentor me so they don't have to see me learning to kill. He should know better: I already know how to fight and kill, but I won't kill unless I have to. </p>
<p>Peeta spoke up then, sounding more frightened than I think I've ever heard him, "that's a good idea, we should split them up now, so we can start training in the morning, before their group training starts." He looks at me, as if to tell me not to intervene. " I'll take James and Samantha, if that's ok with everyone." </p>
<p>Haymitch spoke up before Katniss had a chance, to make sure she didn't train me probably. "I'll take the younger ones - Thomas and Maysillee. How does that sound?" </p>
<p>Katniss nodded before saying her part, "I guess that just leaves me with Liam and Heather." <br/>As they spoke I ate, quickly, quietly, before leaving the table and sneaking to my room, hearing my mother finish just as I closed the door. </p>
<p>🌸🌺🌸</p>
<p>I was woken by a knock at the door, like an inconsistent beating of a drum. Looking at the clock - which read 2 am - let me evaluate the situation; it wouldn't be Effie - she'll only wake me to get ready for training - it most likely wouldn't be Haymitch, Peeta or any of the tributes - probably fast asleep, hoping it was all a dream, a nightmare. That left only one person.</p>
<p>"Hi mum," I mumbled it as I opened the door, still in a half asleep state. "It's 2 in the morning. What's so important?" </p>
<p>I let her in when I saw the look on her face, closing the door behind her. She sat on the bed, and fiddled with something in her hands. "This is something I was given at my first games, and it came to be what I was known for." She passed me a pin. The mockingjay pin she'd showed me once before, when she was drunk with Haymitch. "Keep it. It's something you can take into the games, as something from your district. And this," she pulled another pin out of her pocket, this one a bird, wings lifted high and spread wide, "it's a phoenix. I had someone make it for me after your chariot performance. That's what you reminded me of." She smiled then. "And I think that was what Kafiata was trying to create. A new being, more powerful than ever, rising from the ashes of an old one, burnt out as it is. Wear them with pride." </p>
<p>Katniss stands up then and heads for the door. As she opens the door she turns to me, "make us proud of you." </p>
<p>And with that she walked through the door and closed it behind her.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Training</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Get up! It's time for training." Haymitch's groggy voice seeps through the door to where I am standing, dressed and ready, as I have been for the past half hour.</p><p>"Coming Haymitch." I pick up my two pins, mockingjay and phoenix, mother and daughter, pin them to my uniform, and walk to the door. </p><p>I am wearing a pitch black long sleeve shirt with red, blood-like streaks running down it and tight training pants to match. The boots on my feet are strap ups, with about 7 straps to keep them on. My hair is tied in a braid and has fallen over my shoulder, as it does normally. </p><p>I open the door to see Haymitch - hair ruffled, clothes crumpled, light purple bags under his eyes, drink in hand - waiting expectantly, but still in his half asleep state. </p><p>Taking the drink from his hands and placing it on the table by my door, I give him a tip of my own. "You know, you'd probably be a much better mentor, if you left your glass behind from time to time." He reaches for the alcohol but I slap his hand away. </p><p>Rubbing his hand, and with a disgruntled expression on his face, he and I walk to Thomas's door, preparing to wake him up. </p><p>Haymitch knocks on his door, shouting into the room, "Oi! Thomas! It's time for your training! Get up!" I've put him out, I know that much. Hearing the sleepy grunt that comes from inside Thomas's room, I can tell this is going to be a long day. </p><p>"Well, good luck with dragging him out of bed, I'll meet him down in the training room. We'll have to skip our morning training with you, unless we want to be late." Smirking at Haymitch, I wander down the hall to train for what may be the end of my life.</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Thomas runs into the training rooms just as training is about to begin. He looks like he's just got out of bed, which he probably has; ruffled hair, crumpled clothing, and creases on his face - from where he'd been sleeping, no doubt. </p><p>Sarah, a Capitol woman, who has been explaining how training is going to work also notices his late entrance. "Good of you to join us Thomas," she calls, voice mocking, "as I was just telling the other 71 tributes who arrived on time, training will begin with..." </p><p>She went on to explain how training would work over the next three days, finishing off with telling us that she believed we should learn survival skills rather than to use weapons, which almost everyone promptly ignored, rushing to the weapons area after the mandatory exercises.<br/>
James and Samantha stand together by the archery station, him teaching her to pull the string back. The mere task was draining her energy and confusing her... This was going to be a long day.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Individuals</h2></a>
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    <p>The second day of training passed by almost uneventfully, the only oddity during the torturous training was one of the 18 year olds challenged James and Samantha, prodding at them, teasing them. </p>
<p>"The only way both of you are going to get out is if you find one of those keys, and if I have my way," he was definitely jeering at them now, bullying if you will, "neither of you will get away from the cornucopia alive." </p>
<p>He was pulled away from them by peacekeepers, stopping James fighting him before the games. I had to remind myself that that boy was from district 2, hence his aggressive attitude.</p>
<p>🌸🌺🌸</p>
<p>The last day of training, today, is individual assessment day, and only hours before we get our final scores - the scores that could determine who lives and who dies. We'll also have our interviews with Caesar Flickerman, which are almost as important as the scores. Almost. </p>
<p>A voice coming through the speaker snaps me back into my current situation, "Thomas Darbe, District 12, report for individual assessment." Everyone else had been and gone, he was the only one left before me. </p>
<p>"Well, here I go, possibly walking to my death" he wanders towards the door heading to the training room. Just before he walks through the door he turns to me. "Good luck in there, Maysillee." </p>
<p>I smile at him before speaking, "You too, Thomas. Good luck to you too." He passes through the doorway into the training room, and I sit in silence, waiting for my name to be called.</p>
<p>After about fifteen minutes of waiting the speaker announces that it's my turn. I stand up and meander into the training room for the last time. The Gamemakers are behind a table - and a forcefield as I can now see - and all look pretty drunk and out of it. The tortures of being last. </p>
<p>I call out to them since they don't seem to realise that I'm here, "Maysillee Everdeen. District 12." They turn to me and I take that as a good sign. </p>
<p>I clear my throat and then stride confidently over to the fire station. I hear them chuckle behind me and the scuffing of moving chairs, signifying their lack of interest and attention. A grin spreads over my face; boy were they on for a surprise. </p>
<p>Stoking up the flames of the bonfire till they began to turn blue, I check to see if the Gamemakers have noticed me. No, they are still busy with their meal, laughing amongst themselves. Good. </p>
<p>I stand up and edge towards the weapons area. Picking up a the bow, an arrow and a knife, I sneak back to the bonfire station and check on the Gamemakers. None of them even looked my way. I set the point of the arrow in the flames and check how much of my allotted time I have left. 7 minutes. Plenty. The metal of the arrow begins to glow orange, and the flames promptly start licking up the shaft. <br/>Setting the bow aside, I quickly throw the knife at the chink in the forcefield , sending it straight through and destroying the forcefield without alerting the Gamemakers. Perfect. Lifting the arrow, I place it on the metal bow, making sure not to touch the flames, point it at the wooden table in the centre of the platform, pull back the string, aim, and... Let it fly. </p>
<p>The table catches easily, which finally gets the Gamemakers attention, screeching and trying to put the fire out. Someone eventually came up with the brilliant idea to put it out with their wine, which work remarkably well considering most of it was spilled on the floor in the process of bringing it over. </p>
<p>After the flames dissipated, all the Gamemakers looked at me, standing there as I had been throughout the entire catastrophe, with a grin on my face and bow by my side. Their expressions ranged widely; some stood there open mouthed at me, some scowling, few even smiling at me. </p>
<p>I had done what I came to do, so, placing the bow back on its stand, I bowed and declared, "Thankyou for your consideration," and walked out of the room, hearing an argument  erupt behind me, and the smile on my face grew even wider.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Scores</h2></a>
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    <p>The smile didn't leave my face the whole way up the elevator to floor 12, but it eventually simmered away when the elevator doors opened and Effie was standing there with a scowl on her face. At first I thought she knew what had happened, until she said "You took your time! Come on, if we hurry we can still get there before it starts." </p>
<p>My little smirk returned slightly, "Sorry for messing up your schedule, Effie." </p>
<p>"You should be." </p>
<p>I had to force myself not to laugh at that, slapping my hand over my mouth. She leads me to the couch where all the others are, sitting patiently, waiting for the scores to be revealed. </p>
<p>About five minutes after my arrival I'd told Katniss what happened, and she broke into a grin almost as big as mine. "Like mother like daughter, I suppose." And with that, we were both giggling until Caesar Flickerman appeared on the screen. </p>
<p>The scores for the first four districts were usually 9 or 10, but one got lower, a 'mere' 7. <br/>When it eventually came around to us, James and Samantha both scored 6, Heather scored a low 3, Liam, a 10. Thomas was up next. </p>
<p>"Thomas Darbe, District 12, scores an 8." </p>
<p>I took a deep breath and held it as Caesar continued, "and finally Maysillee Everdeen, District 12, scores..." He does a double take at the sheet of paper in front of him before going on, "12, a complete 12." </p>
<p>Everyone turns to look at me, and I let the breath I've been holding in come out in a rush, and with that, everyone begins to cheer and pat me on the back. </p>
<p>They were all questioning me, all seemingly interested in the same question: "what did you do?" <br/>I couldn't tell them, because honestly, I didn't know what I did.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Interviews</h2></a>
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    <p>Kafiata speaks to me as she ensnares me in her new creation, another Phoenix dress.</p><p>"Seriously though, how did you achieve a 12? No one is awarded a 12. Not even your mother." </p><p>I took a deep breath and sighed, "I don't know. I was in a bad mood, so I thought, 'why not show them up'. But I gotta admit it was fun." </p><p>Kafiata smiled, fixing the skirt of the dress. "Okay, now, if Caesar asks how you got it, don't say anything. Anything at all." </p><p>I grinned at that. "I wouldn't know what to tell him." </p><p>Standing back to admire her work, Kafiata smiles at what is apparently a good look. I'm in a coal black dress, which looks like it's been made of ashes, with a blood red streak down the side and the design of the Phoenix stitched over my heart in white. "Now, don't spin until the very end. Hopefully it'll work."</p><p>I look at her in disbelief. "Hopefully?"</p><p>Her mouth split into a grin. "Hopefully."</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>I've been waiting in this line for an agonisingly long time. The problem with tripling the tributes is that there are just so many to get through. They had to split us over two nights, and I'm still at the end of the line. Nothing much has happened; it's been all the same thing: people begging for help, forgiveness, trying to win over the crowd. There's no point. The Capitol wins. Not any of us. I know that so why does no body else on this line seem to see it? </p><p>"Thankyou, Heather. May the odds be ever in your favour." Applauds and cheers echo from the audience. "And now, welcome to the stage, the final tribute, the Phoenix, as some know her, Maysillee Everdeen!" </p><p>Stepping out onto that stage was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done. It was kind of like accepting that I was going to die. But none the less, I strutted out onto that stage like I was going to win the games. </p><p>Sitting in the chair next to Caesar, all I could think was that my mother sat in this chair once. So did my father. No actually scrap that. That chair was probably destroyed in the aftermath of the rebellion. </p><p>Mr Flickerman cleared his throat. "So, Maysillee, how does it feel to be here?" </p><p>I kind of felt like lying, winning the audiences favour, but then I thought of my score, and had a better idea. </p><p>"Rubbish really. It kind of feels like I'm joining the family business." Laughter erupted from the assembled crowd. A menacing sort of laughter. "I mean, I never really wanted to take over but here I am." The laughter grew louder. </p><p>Caesar hushed the crowd (after calming himself out of his laughing frenzy), before continuing, "Well, Maysillee, may I ask, how does it feel to be following in your mothers footsteps?" I fell silent, letting him go on. "I mean, you volunteered for your younger sister, didn't you? And how much younger is she than you." </p><p>Anger sliced through my body, he didn't need to know that. But I had to answer. I had to be kind. </p><p>"4 years. The same difference as my mother to my aunt, yes." </p><p>An 'aww' fell across the crowd. </p><p>Clearing his throat once more, he asked me if I could tell them how I received such an amazing score of 12, to which I responded, "no comment". This caused another bout of laughter from the crowd. </p><p>"So, those flames on your dress the other night, were they real? Like your mother's?" </p><p>My lips spread across my face in a gorgeous smile. At least I hoped it was gorgeous. "Yes, yes they were. In fact, I believe Kafiata put them in my dress tonight. Would you like to see?" </p><p>The audience screamed and shouted at me to show them, to which Caesar simply stated, "I'll take that as a yes." </p><p>Standing from that silk laden chair, I stepped to the front of the stage, and began to spin, letting the flames lick up my dress until I was completely engulfed. I began to slow down, letting the flames die down with the spinning. As this happened, a new dress appeared and I saw what Kafiata meant about hoping it would work. </p><p>The dress had gone from black to white in a dazzling display of flame, leaving the red stripe but stitching new lines of gold thread throughout the beautiful gown. And right over where my heart is, the mockingjay pin design was stitched in black while the original image had changed to a red. All in all, an amazing transformation, I had to say. The audience was in awe, and I looked to where Kafiata stood in the crowd smiling and nodding at me. I smiled back. </p><p>And with that bombshell, Caesar dismissed me from the stage and the interviews were over for another year, sending us all to our doom.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Laughing in the face of death</h2></a>
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    <p>Sleeping was surprisingly easy on the last night I could guarantee my own safety: I didn't have any nightmares, nor dreams, and I wasn't kept up... But that just made the day come all the sooner.</p><p>"All right! Rise and shine! Today's the day, we can't be late!" Haymitch's voice booms down the hallway and through the thin wooden doors of our rooms. </p><p>I rolled out of bed, well rested, but grouchy none-the-less. "All right, all right, Effie mark 2!" </p><p>After that remark I hear a few giggles from down the halls and a well placed groan from the receiver himself. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. We all know Little Miss Tease is good at her job but that doesn't mean you have to encourage her! Now get up, get dressed and GET OUT HERE!" </p><p>A chorus of groans rises from the rooms around me, everyone acting like school children on a Monday morning. Just the thought of that lights up my face: this might be the last day we are all living, but we are still acting like typical teenagers. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>"- so, no matter what, just stay brave, stay strong, and... Umm..." Haymitch's pep talk had been pretty good up until now, which - according to Mum and Dad - is quite a rarity. </p><p>"Stay alive?" Katniss supplies, smiling at the old shared joke. </p><p>Haymitch nods, smiling too, "Yeah, stay alive." </p><p>And with that, we were all guided onto the hovercraft. </p><p>My parents didn't say goodbye, they just smiled and waved as I turned my back on them for what could be the last time, expecting - hoping - that I would come home to them.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Arena</h2></a>
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    <p>Meeting Kafiata under the arena after the hovercraft ride was sort of surreal. I mean, I'd been expecting to die before I saw another friendly face, so this was quite a surprise - a good one though. I hugged her, happy for the sibling affection she could give me so easily. </p>
<p>I take a deep breath after releasing my tight hold, saying something I never wanted to say: "If I die-" </p>
<p>That's where Kafiata cuts me off, already preparing for the tears that are threatening to spill from my eyes. "Sweetie, you're not going to die." </p>
<p>I look up at her, eyes shining. "How do you know?" </p>
<p>She smiles. "Because you're brave and smart and strong. You could sway the audience to your side with a single tear." </p>
<p>I look away, blinking the tears away. "I don't want their help." I look back up at her, anger shining in my eyes now. "They put me in here. I'm going to get me out. And I am not going to give up or cry for their entertainment! No! Not ever," I was becoming more and more agitated as I spoke, raising my voice to a shout. "They are not my lifeline, they are not my way home. My friends, my family..." I smile and Kafiata again, calming down a bit, "even you..." She smiles, the tears springing to her eyes now, as I guesture with my hands to the pipe that will pull me into the arena, "and all those people out there... They are my lifeline, not some snotty rich person living off the labour of others, not the people in the Capitol betting on our lives, and none of them, NONE of those people out there deserve to die." I was almost screaming when I finished, and I expected Kafiata to be wary of me, maybe even afraid, but she just stood there smiling, as a voice rang through the speakers announcing that I needed to enter the capsule. </p>
<p>She leaned down smiling sadly, hugging me for a moment, whispering in my ear, "Then show them." </p>
<p>Kafiata pulls away and leads me to the platform that will lift me to the arena, allowing me to step in before the glass comes down around me, preparing for the lift to begin. </p>
<p>I stand in front of Kafiata, brave and tall. She believes in me. </p>
<p>As the silver disk beneath me starts to move, I nod to Kafiata, preparing for the bloodshed ahead, as she mouths to me the last thing I may ever know of her.</p>
<p>Show them.</p>
<p>🌸🌺🌸</p>
<p>Opening my eyes to the bright glare of sunlight was harder than I expected it to be, but once achieved, I could see my surroundings very clearly. The Cornucopia is on an island, just like in the last quarter quell, and we are all positioned around it, seemingly floating in water. There is a beach behind me, leading into the water surrounding the Cornucopia, and a thick layer of trees just past the sand, but what was beyond that was nothing like nature should have been: off in one direction, the trees dropped off into a far reaching desert; another direction, a rainforest thickens the further it is from us; ahead of me, mountains rise high above us, dusted in snow and ice. </p>
<p>A voice interrupts me from learning my surroundings, as it echoes off invisible walls. "Welcome, welcome to the 100th Hunger Games, the 4th Quarter Quell and the reinstatement of the rightful course of justice. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour." Just as the voice - that I believed may have belonged to Claudius Templesmith - finishes speaking, a countdown appears, and I prepare to swim. Whether I go to the shore and escape or the Cornucopia and fight I don't know yet, but that's not important yet. I turn, looking at the other tributes - all lined up, ready for battle, ready to die - and I catch sight of Heather, the only tribute not preparing to swim. The countdown continues, down to 5.</p>
<p>4 </p>
<p>Heather steps forward slightly on her platform.</p>
<p>3</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath. Maybe she is going to swim.</p>
<p>2</p>
<p>She closes her eyes, stepping forwards more. As I see what she's doing I cry out to her, but I'm too late.</p>
<p>1</p>
<p>Heather steps off the platform and the water around her explodes.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Cannon Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The timer goes off, but I stand frozen for a moment, unable to believe what just happened. </p><p>Heather had stepped off the platform before the timer was done. She'd known what she was doing, and she knew what was going to happen. </p><p>I choke down tears and leap off my pedestal into the water below me, swimming for shore, for temporary safety. Crawling out onto the sand of the beach, I hear the noise of fighting coming from behind me: clashing weapons; shouts, shrieks and the occasional scream. </p><p>I scuttle into the woods that cover the perimeter of the beach and climb up a tree. Hiding in the dense branches, I rush from tree to tree, the way people from District 11 taught me when I was younger, trying to find somewhere I could hide in peace. </p><p>Reaching the mountainous slopes was easier by tree, and I could see the other tributes - who were beginning to flee from the bloodbath that was the Cornucopia - beneath me, screams still being heard as tributes chase one another, like predator and prey. </p><p>Just on the edge of the tree line, closer to the cornucopia than the mountains, I can see a huge tree, branches reaching outwards and entangling with each other to create a sort of bowl. Scrambling to the tree, I see that there are very few holes in the 'floor' of the bowl, and a wide covering of leaves, allowing sunlight access in a paint-splatter sort of way. Nodding to myself, I set off in search of food and water. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Night falls sooner than I would have hoped, but I have collected food stuffs and set countless traps throughout the rainforest with vines and branches. Clambering back into my treehouse I place the remainder of my collections in a shaded spot I had set apart earlier for food, and climb back down my tree and wander along the tree line warily in the shadows, as another scream fills the air from the mountaintop. Taking a deep breath, I wander out into the open and walk along the rocky platforms that lead to and from the island in the middle. When I'm about halfway across, the cannon fire begins, ringing through the air, bouncing off the water around me. I stand there, out in the open, counting the cannon shots. 11...12...13... </p><p>And that's where it stops. 13. Unlucky number, as it is said, and it was very unlucky indeed today. 13 deaths. 13 out of 72 gone, 59 left. </p><p>Realising  that I'm standing in one of the most deadly places in the entire arena as I know so far, I rush over to the cornucopia and look through it, searching for anything useful, when I spot a bow. Silver in the light of the waxing moon, it's beauty shines more than its deadliness. Reaching for it and it's quiver companion, I see another, hidden behind other weapons. </p><p>Picking up weapons and a backpack or two, I head back out into the night, hurrying back to my tree, and depositing my new found 'toys', hearing the Capitol anthem playing outside. Climbing higher through the branches, I see the Capitol Seal emblazoned in the sky, and the faces of those who died today being projected through the air. Eventually, after the other 12 who passed, Heather's face lit the night sky, a slight smile on her face in the image. The seal reappeared and then the night sky was empty except for starts and the moon once more. </p><p>Sitting down in my enclosed tree-lair, I finally let the tears begin to fall as I sob myself quietly to sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Dreams and Danger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wiping tears from my eyes I stand in the fuzzy surroundings that have engulfed my senses. I appear to still be in my treehouse lair, but it is lighter, as if there were even fewer leaves covering me. The food on the floor is still there, but more has been added to it. Meat lies on the floor rapped in leaves next to the berries and nuts I'd already collected. The walls are covered in scratches, scratches that weren't there before. I wander over to them, inspecting them more intensely, and notice that the claw indentations were covering numbers. Numbers that had also been scratched into the tree branch. The numbers were 1 through 12, each written six times, with thirteen of the marks scratched over. </p><p>That's when it hits me: they must be the tributes... And the deaths.</p><p>My hand drifts over the numbers that have been destroyed by the simple lines and it reaches the first 12. Heather. </p><p>My tears come again, heavier than I allowed them before. </p><p>A voice erupted from behind me, but it isn't like the loud-speaker voices from the Gamemakers, it's sweet, calm, and almost sisterly. "Hush, hush. It's okay, don't cry." The only problem is, I recognise that voice, and she can't be here. </p><p>I turn around carefully, preparing for the worst, and there I see her, clothed in a silvery white gown that flows so easily around her it's hard to believe the last time I saw her she was stepping into her doom. </p><p>"Heather." My voice comes out as a strangled whisper, and more sobs erupt from my chest before I can stop them. </p><p>She reaches for me and encases me in a bear hug, her head resting on mine, stroking my hair. "Sh... You're going to be okay. It's alright." </p><p>I look up at her gratefully before realising something. "B-b-but you're d-dead." I pull back, stepping backwards until I hit the wall that has the numbers emblazoned upon it. "You c-ca-can't be here, because you're d-dead."</p><p>She sighs, as if I am a child who is believing in some silly fairy tale. "Well, yes..." I gasp, loudly, but she continues none the less. "I am dead, but I can be here." </p><p>She has complicated things now. "H-how?" </p><p>Giggling slightly, she answers me: "Because this is a dream silly." </p><p>It all makes sense now: the fuzziness of my surroundings; the extra food when I had caught nothing of yet; and the numbers, those oh so scary numbers. </p><p>I look at Heather, new tears springing into my eyes. "Why did you do it? Why'd you step into the water? You knew what was going to happen! So why did you step in?!" My voice had started soft, but it rises drastically as I speak. </p><p>Heather licks her lips and averted her eyes for a moment. "Because I knew I was going to die, sooner rather than later, and I decided I wanted to die how I wished, that I was going to be able to see it coming, that I could..." She pauses, thinking, "I don't know, step into my fate knowing how and when it was going to happen, instead of fearing death every day in this stupid arena." </p><p>Another sob becomes stuck in my throat. "Then why are you here? If you can come because of a dream, why come to me, why not your family, loved ones?" </p><p>"Because you were the only one to care that I stepped off." She'd said that smiling, but now she becomes serious. "And you're in danger." </p><p>"What? What danger?"</p><p>She doesn't seem to be hearing me anymore, just speaking, like she's in some sort of trance. "The only danger you face comes from yourself, your willingness to protect others before you defend yourself." Only now does she actually look at me. "The keys they are hiding out there, find them, get out of here while you still can." </p><p>And with that, Heather and my dream faded away into nothingness. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>I woke with a start in the early morning, and looked across to my food storage - no new food, it was just the way I left it last night - to my supplies area - everything is still there, nothing removed or added. And finally I look to the bark of the tree which had been so clear in my dream, expecting to see nothing. </p><p>A gasp lodges in my throat. </p><p>The numbers are still there, gashes and all.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Keys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keys? Rushing from tree to tree, I search the ground looking for anything that might resemble a key. Maybe she didn't mean an actual key maybe she just meant a way out. Maybe...</p><p>The ground rushes past beneath me, and before I know what's happening I slip and plummet towards the ground, scratching my skin on bark all the way down. </p><p>Thud. Landing on the ground could have been more graceful, and more importantly, quieter.<br/>I hear a rustle in the bushes around me, and I scuttle back to hide in the shadows of the trees, and just as I do so, a glint of silver catches my eye. It's embedded in the bark of a tree across the clearing. </p><p>Right next to the bushes that are hiding someone. </p><p>Skirting around the edge, I tiptoe slowly to the tree, before reaching around the tree, and pulling the metallic object out easily. </p><p>Looking at the object in my hand, my mind runs wild. It's an actual key. But what could I use it for? </p><p>Before I could think much more about it, the figure that had been hiding in the bushes to my right, leaps into view, rushing at me knife in hand. I run backwards, but a tree blocks my path, and before I can climb the tree, my opponent is upon me, knife at my throat. But that face, I know that face…</p><p>"Maysillee?" He speaks, voice cracking as he does so.</p><p>I squirm to get away, but he doesn't remove the knife. </p><p>"Thomas! Leave me alone!" I scream at him, hopping to scare him, maybe just get him to relax his grip a little. But he stayed there, not moving an inch, the perplexed look still covering his face. </p><p>"But I thought you would be dead already." </p><p>I chuckle hollowly. "Well, isn't that a reassuring thought." </p><p>He still hasn't moved, hasn't given me any way of escape. </p><p>"Well, um... Maybe you could just let me go then? Hmm" I knew I was pleading by now, but I couldn't think of anything else to do. </p><p>He stood there thinking about it for a bit, but didn't move a muscle. "But if I don't kill you know, someone else will probably do it later. At least this way, I can save you most of the pain." </p><p>Glaring at him, I speak with acid on my tongue. "What kind of sick logic is that?" </p><p>He took a deep breath, nodding to himself, and then began to push harder on the knife. I did the only thing I could think of doing right then, wether it was going to be effective or not. </p><p>I kneed him where the sun don't shine. </p><p>He groaned and keeled over, stepping backwards, very slowly. I breathed deeply, looking at him for a moment, before climbing the tree behind me and beginning to rush back to my tree den by treetops. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Reaching my temporary home, I lean on the wall, and touch my neck, pulling a slightly bloodstained hand away. I place the key with my other supplies and edge outside. Spotting a bush my grandmother once told me was good for healing, I clamber down and remove a few leaves. Placing them on my throat, I feel instantly refreshed and calm. Grabbing a few more of the healing leaves, I reach back up to the branches I use to pull me up, just as I hear a slight ringing sound that I recalled from watching the other games. </p><p>A sponsor's gift floats down to me, ringing on its slow descent. The silver parachute so small for what seems to be such a large container. </p><p>Lodging itself in the branches of my tree, the parachute falls to the side of its parcel, glinting in the sunlight. </p><p>I click the casing of the gift open after (swinging myself up into the tree once more), revealing a small shoulder bag. Opening the bag, I don't expect anything big, but once I open it, I find small jars of medical supplies and a little note. The note reads:</p><p>Take care <br/>- Mum, Dad and Haymitch </p><p>Smiling to myself, I organise the new resources, and place the little key into a side pocket. Removing a little flashlight from the backpacks I had collected earlier, I put it and a few food supplies in my bag, along with a small knife, though the thing honestly scared me now. Night was going to fall soon. I had a button to find. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Climbing through strange trees at night was harder than I thought it would be. Shadows loomed everywhere, and tree branches hid other tree branches. Eventually, when I had just decided to turn back and start again in the morning, I heard a whimper in the woods near me.</p><p>Sliding down the side of the tree, I came to a soft landing on the forest floor. Still hearing the quite crying, I edge towards a fire pit that marks human error, for a fire is like a call to all the other tributes: here I am, come kill me!</p><p>At the edge of the clearing I stop in the flickering light from the fire, watching the scene in front of me for a bit. There was the button, silver and shining, standing tall at the side of the clearing. My way out was right there, but the people next to it were where my eyes rested. Suzanne and James sat by the fire, curled up. Well, James sat by the fire, Suzanne in his arms, a gash along her leg that seemed to me like it could be infected already. </p><p>I step further into the clearing before I really realise what I am doing. "What happened?" The words escape my lips before I can think about the consequences, and James whipped around to see me. I swear he almost hissed. </p><p>"She was attacked! What do you think happened?!" The venom in his voice is clear as day, and almost as poisonous as a snake's bite. </p><p>Edging back slowly at his words, I gulp before saying something I think I may regret for the rest of my life: "I could help." </p><p>He looked at me eyes suddenly full of tears and anger at the same time. "How and why would you help her? Huh? Answer my that!" </p><p>I step forwards again, approaching him like you might approach a frightened animal, hoping not to scare it away. "Just, just let me help." </p><p>He looked down at Suzanne who, for the first time, I realised wasn't asleep. She nodded at him, and he allowed me to sit by them at the fire. </p><p>I sat there for a while, treating her wound, but after a little bit, k realised I wouldn't be able to heal her entirely, not here or now. But I knew who could. </p><p>Stopping treating her, I reached into my satchel once more, pulling out the key. </p><p>I hand it to Suzanne. "Here. Take this, go home." Her eyes grow wide as she looks from the key in her hand to my face. "I'll find another one don't you worry. Now go home, heal up. And you..." I turn to look at James. "You have to run, run from here as fast as you can. This fire will have attracted a lot of unwanted attention." </p><p>Suzanne speaks to me for the first time, her voice cracking and tears in her eyes. "How can I ever repay you?" </p><p>"Get out of here alive..." I think about it for a moment. "Oh and one more thing." I lean down and whisper in her ear what I wished. She's nodding as I pull back. "Now come on, we have to get you to that button." </p><p>While I lift one of her arms over my shoulder, James does the same to her other arm. We all stagger over to the button, where Suzanne inserts the key into the slot and presses the button. A ringing goes around the arena once more, but this one is more pleasant, less deathly. </p><p>I turn to James. "We have to go. The button will only take one person at a time." He turns to Suzanne, hugs her, and says what I think is a goodbye. </p><p>A rustling erupts in the bushes behind us, as the hovercraft comes and picks up Suzanne. James and I turn slowly. And he murmurs something to me. "Run" </p><p>I turn and bolt, rushing straight up a tree, thinking that James is right behind me, but as I hear the clashing of weapons, and another canon fire through the air, I know that I was wrong. I rush back to the edge of the clearing and peer beyond the leaves, where I see James lying on the ground, not moving, with blood covering his front. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>The sight of James had been too much, I hadn't done anything to commemorate his passing. No flowers or anything, I'd just run, like he'd told me too. Looking up at the sky tonight. I see that there were two deaths today: a district 5 girl who I believe was 11 and James. They show Suzanne in a different way, as an actual video of her now. She's out, alive, and safe. Walking despondently back into my hut, I put a line next to another twelve, Suzanne, to symbolise that she is safe. </p><p>And after, I gauge out a five (the third five to be crossed out) and the next twelve on the list, representing James. A single tear runs down my face. I may have saved Suzanne today, but I'd left James to die, even if he'd told me to do it. </p><p>I remembered that both President Snow and Heather had said keys not key. </p><p>Further along the wall, I drew a tally mark. One key found, one life saved, so many more to go.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Safe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Collecting the keys became easier the more I did it. There was at least one for each of the twelve sections of the arena: under the sand of the desert; in a cave in the side of the snow capped mountain; in the foliage of the rainforest. I even found one strapped to the side of the Cornucopia's island. </p><p>Eventually, after days upon days of searching, I've successfully found what I consider to be most, if not all of the keys. I now have 12 keys, pushing the total up to thirteen. </p><p>Oh wow, I thought, they are really over doing this thirteen thing. </p><p>A scream interrupts my thoughts. I prepare for the canon fire that has been a regular in life hear, but it doesn't come. </p><p>I smile, taking one key in hand, I pick up my supplies bag and race to the source of the sound. </p><p>A little girl, who I didn't think could be more that 12 sat on the grass below me, grasping at a bleeding gash in her leg. I jump down from the treetops, scaring her, and she tries to scuttle away. </p><p>I hurry over, concern now written on my face as the gash begins bleeding more rapidly at her sudden movement. "Sh...shh... I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay." </p><p>She turns to me slowly, stopping her struggling to do so. Fear is still shown clearly in her eyes. </p><p>Sitting beside her I start to clean the wound. After a while I look up at her. She's sitting there in silence, staring at me, like I came from another planet. </p><p>She tries to speak, her voice cracking from what I can only assume is lack of use, "Why are you helping me? I don't even know who you are."</p><p>I gaze back down at the wound, contemplating what to say next. "Because, if I didn't, who would?" </p><p>I finish bandaging her wound, stand, and hold my hand out to help her up. She reluctantly clutches my hand in hers, and I pull her to her feet. </p><p>"Okay," I heft one of her arms over my shoulder and help her walk while I'm talking, "we have a long way to go, so don't put to much pressure on it. We won't get a lot of breaks, so do you think you can do it?"</p><p>"Do what? Where are we going?" </p><p>I monetarily stop holding her arm over my shoulder and into my pack, pulling out the Key and showing it to her. "We are taking you home."</p><p>She gasped for a moment before I placed the key back in my bag and support her again, walking like a three legged race, to the button that will get her safe. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>"Emma." We'd been walking in silence for almost an hour when she spoke. </p><p>I look at her, dumbfounded, "What?" </p><p>She smiles slightly, before the pain of her leg turns it to a grimace, "My name. It's Emma." </p><p>I let her sit down on a log, letting her rest. Sitting beside her, I decide to strike up a conversation. "Nice to meet you Emma, I'm Maysillee." </p><p>She stares at me, shocked for a moment. "Maysillee, like, the Maysillee? Maysillee Everdeen?" </p><p>Now it's my turn to be shocked. "Huh? How did you now that?" </p><p>Smiling, she recounts the training scores. "The only person in the history of the Hunger Games EVER to get a full 12. Even your own mother couldn't do that well." </p><p>"Well, it's nice to know that people know who I am, though I doubt that's going to stop the from killing me." </p><p>She suddenly becomes interested in the ground beneath her feet. "Why don't you just get out? Go home? You have a key, why not use it on yourself?" </p><p>"Because," I say, standing up again and reaching for her, helping her upright again. "Then I couldn't make sure other were safe. Besides," I smile at her again, lifting her arm over my shoulder once more and whispering to her. "I have more than one key." </p><p>She stares at me, eyes as round as dinner plates. </p><p>"Now come on, we only have about half an hours walking left, lets do this."</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Reaching the button, I sit her next to it, high enough to press the button, but not so she has to put weight on her leg. Inserting the key into the slot, turning it and letting the key sink in, I sit her hands on top of the silver button. </p><p>"Good luck out there." I whisper, a tear streaking down her face as I watch. </p><p>Sniffling, she smiles. "Yeah, you too." </p><p>"Emma?"</p><p>"Mmhh?" </p><p>"What District are you from?" </p><p>She looks at me as if I just grew a second head. "District 5, why?" </p><p>"Just curious." I take a deep breath. "Now, press this stupid thing and get back there." </p><p>Another tear escapes her eyes. "What about you?" </p><p>"I'll be fine, but thanks for your concern." </p><p>"Is there any way I can help you? From out there I mean." </p><p>I'm about to say no when a thought pops into my head, "Just one thing..." I lean over and whisper in her ear. </p><p>She grins when I step back. "Now that I can do." </p><p>"Farewell Emma, daughter of District 5. Have a nice life." </p><p>And with that, she pushed her hands down on the button, preparing to be lifted to safety, as I rush back into the cover of the trees and watch her become engulfed in freedom.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Decision Time</h2></a>
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    <p>And so it went on. Each day or so I would find someone injured, someone who wanted, needed to go home. Each time I would tell them the same thing, only one thing they needed to do, and all of them were fine with it. Ten people, each close to death or really to young to be here. </p><p>There was: Jane, 10, from District 7; Kayla, 17, District 4; Jay, 15, District 1; and so the list went on, until there was one person from each district having gone home. But for each person saved, there were still multiple deaths. Liam was killed about two days ago: the strongest player from District 12, and now he's gone. Now, we were right at the very end. Three people left. Me, obviously, an 18 year old from District 1 - I think his name was Corbin.</p><p>And Thomas.</p><p>Thomas who had been so kind to me until that day, that one day when his sanity seemed to slip. <br/>Shaking the thought away, a grab my carry bag, place the last key inside and start off through the trees. Today's the day I finally go home. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Clearings seem to pass by quickly, as I slip through the shadows of the leaves, watching the world from above, hurrying to the one clearing that really matters anymore. There's the stream I would collect my water at, there are the bushes of berries that were easy to collect - and easy to hide in - there are the traps I set and intend to leave for the others. </p><p>Reaching the clearing, I here clashing of metal upon metal, weapons hitting, and eventually a cry out. Wether it was Corbin or Thomas, I don't know, and I don't really want to find out. </p><p>I climb around the edge of the clearing till I reach the tree that is closest to the button, my way home. I don't here any more fighting, but there was no canon fire to symbolise a death. </p><p>Scuttling down the tree, I scamper over to the button, but I can see Thomas through the trees ahead, still breathing, if shallowly. </p><p>I can't believe I'm doing this, I think as I rush over to him. </p><p>His eyes are glassy, tears spilling from them. A gash spread from his shoulder round to his hip on the other side. I start treating him, I don't know why, he'll end up getting hurt again once I leave anyway. </p><p>"Who's that? What are you doing?" His eyes flick around as if he has become blind. </p><p>"Stop squirming, it'll only make it worse." </p><p>His breath catches in his throat, "Maysillee?" His voice is a croak when it comes out this time. <br/>"It hardly matters, all that matters right now is that we clean this up so you might actually have a chance of winning and getting out of here." </p><p>He catches my wrist as I attempt to continue treating him, "It does matter. I almost killed you, and you're helping me." His eyes drop, but I don't know if he was actually looking at me in the first place, "I don't deserve to win, I deserve to die in here." Another tear flows down his cheek. </p><p>I decide now's a good time to try my scolding voice, "Don't be stupid, of course you deserve to live. You were scared, doing what you thought was right at the time." </p><p>More tears leave paths down his grimy face, "You don't really believe that." </p><p>"How do you know?" </p><p>He doesn't speak for a while, and when he does his voice is a whisper, "I don't." </p><p>"Exactly." Looking down at the wound, I realise I won't be able to heal it. </p><p>Pulling the key from my satchel I look from it to Thomas to the button and around again. </p><p>Nodding to myself, I hoist Thomas up and more or less carry him towards the button, leaning him against it when we finally reach it. I put the key in the slot, turn it and let the button take it. Then, taking Thomas's hands in mine, I place his on the button, mine on top. </p><p>"Maysillee, what are you doing?" </p><p>I take a deep breath, speaking to him quietly. "Sending you home." And with that, I used his hands to press down on the button, then I turn around and walk away from the only chance I had of going home.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Last Day</h2></a>
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    <p>Being woken up by the Capitol anthem is not the most pleasant thing in the world, but it's definitely not the worst. Climbing to the top of my tree, I saw that this time, it being morning and all, there was no image, merely sound echoing around the now almost empty arena.</p><p>"Tributes, we congratulate you, for now there are only 2 of you left." As the voice spoke, I realised I didn't really want to win, so I began to climb back down the tree for what may be the last time, letting the voice continue as I rush through over the beach and onto the island, scrambling up onto the Cornucopia. "As you may already know, all the keys have been used, so only one of you will survive today. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your fav-" </p><p>Before they finished speaking I looked up into the sky, hoping I was looking at a camera from my high point, and shouted as loud as I could, "THEY ARE NEVER IN OUR FAVOUR!" I took a deep breath and continued, "and they probably never will be. But before you go and turn off the mic so you can just kill me with the click of a button, I would like to say something. Would you give me that? My last wish if you want to call it that." I stopped and waited for an answer, hoping they hadn't left yet. </p><p>Nothing came. No response, but also no death inducing situation. </p><p>Nodding, I looked around the arena. Corbin was out there somewhere, probably plotting how to kill me most dramatically. </p><p>"Okay," breathing deeply, I look around the arena, turning as I do so. Somewhere around here there are cameras, so the audience is watching, I know that. "Why do you have these? I mean I know why you have the games, they are to keep the Districts in line, stop the rebellions, right? Well it didn't work last time, so why should it work now? I was told you use it as hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, your child will be the one to survive. Not fear, but honestly, you screwed up. Because all I see in the eyes of people put in here is fear. Not the hope that they might survive. Heck, some of them are even afraid what will happen if they do survive, living with the memories of what they did in here." My mind flicks to Thomas, but I push that thought away and keep going. "But you know something? I'm not scared anymore. Go ahead, kill me, let Corbin live the rest of his life without the weight of my death on his shoulders." I stretch out my arms before letting them drop to my sides once more. "My name is Maysillee Everdeen, I am the Phoenix, daughter of the Mockingjay, and I am NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" My voice echoes around the arena, nothing following it except the occasional bird call. </p><p>I wait for something to happen, anything, but nothing, again. They haven't tried to kill me. </p><p>My rapid breathing begins to slow down and I look around at the beach, spotting Corbin standing there, knife in hand. </p><p>"Hi Corbin, nice to meet you." </p><p>He stands there for a moment, paralysed. Eventually he speaks, a gritty, deep voice escaping his voice. "You'd let me go home. You'd die to let me go home." </p><p>I smile, scrambling down the side of the metallic Cornucopia. "Yep." </p><p>He begins to hand me the knife. "Take it," he says it so earnestly, kindly even, "kill me and go home." </p><p>I shake my head, pushing the knife away from me. "No, I'm not going to kill you to go back home. I'd never be able to forgive myself." </p><p>He takes the knife back but keeps it in his hand. "How many people have you killed during these games?" </p><p>Well that's a strange question to ask right now, but I answer, "None. How about you?" </p><p>He smiles, but it's a sad smile, "Enough that one more won't matter." </p><p>I prepare for the blade to kill me, but instead, Corbin turns the knife on himself. </p><p>He collapses to the ground, and I kneel down, cradling his head in my lap. "Why'd you do that?" I say, tears welling in my eyes. </p><p>He smiles, a tiny bit of blood running from his mouth, "One of us had to die. You were willing to give your life up for me, someone who had been plotting to kill you only moments before, so I'm definitely willing to die for you. You didn't kill a single person the entire games, and didn't even think of killing me." I open my mouth to disagree, but he stops me, going on, "Don't think you killed me, I killed myself. Just remember to honour me in that Victory Tour of yours." He and I laugh for a moment, before his eyes glaze over and he stops moving in my arms. I let a sob erupt from my throat as a canon fires in the distance, and the voice comes back. </p><p>"Congratulations, Maysillee Everdeen. May I present to you the Victor of the 100th Hunger Games and 4th Quarter Quell." </p><p>This was no victory, I think bitterly. The hovercraft comes over me and a platform descends, carrying a single person. They step off and lift me from where I'm sitting on the ground. Another hovercraft comes over and lifts Corbin from the ground. Another sob comes from my mouth and I clamp a hand over it to stop further signs of weakness showing. Being lifted from that place of death was sort of surreal. It was over. I was going home. But the deaths that had to happen for me to get here. <br/>I wondered how and when Samantha found out about James. </p><p>This was no victory. This was cold blooded killing. You may be in power for now President Snow, but the Capitol has fallen once, I thought about the one favour I had asked of those I'd let out and a smile spread across my lips. It'll be easier a second time.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Homeward Bound</h2></a>
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    <p>Cameras and interviewers followed my arrival back in the Capitol, and plastering on a fake smile even seemed to difficult. I was eventually taken back to the training centre rooms. I was greeted at the ground floor by all the people the keys had saved. I saw Suzanne in the back, and I wandered over to her, worried. </p><p>"Suzanne?" </p><p>"Maysillee." </p><p>She was in a wheelchair, curtesy of her leg wound. She didn't seem angry or anything, so I took the plunge. </p><p>"I'm sorry about James." </p><p>The words did seem to sting her a bit, but she didn't snap at me or break out crying. I took that as a good sign. </p><p>"Thankyou." She breathed, a few tears springing to her eyes. </p><p>I don't think I'll ever forget the look she had on her face just then. I may not have actually killed James, but all of a sudden I felt extremely responsible.</p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>Days turned to weeks in the Capitol, the interview with Caesar not as painful as I thought it would be. Kafiata created gowns galore and said I could keep them, that they weren't made for anything in particular. My parents couldn't see me all that much. They had to do 'mentor interviews' and things of the sort. The other 'victors' would visit me on the 12th floor of the building, but I didn't really care. I was feeling more and more responsible for the deaths in the games everyday.  People would tell me it wasn't my fault, but I didn't believe them. </p><p>Eventually, I was allowed to go home. We all were. Back to our districts. Into the Victors Village. I was placed in a different house to where my parents were, but that didn't stop me living in my old room. Rue was teary-eyed when she saw me walk through the doors for the first time, and she, and my other siblings had hugged me so tight I thought my ribs were going to crack.</p><p>Months went by with me just sitting in my room. I ate very little and climbed out my window to go do exercise. </p><p>Everyday that I thought about the deaths, I got angrier, more agitated. </p><p>Katniss came into my room one night, and I decided to tell her. </p><p>"I have a plan." I whisper to her, "I have since I first let Suzanne out of the arena." </p><p>Katniss chuckles for a moment, a hollow chuckle, but one none the less. "A plan to what?" </p><p>I look at her, staring at her, dumbfounded, how could she not get it, "a plan to overthrow the Capitol." </p><p>My mother inhaled sharply, "It won't work. And even if it does, it'll lead to war and more death. Do you really want that?" </p><p>"But it won't mum, I know it won't." </p><p>She sighs. "Fine, tell me the plan first though." </p><p>I spend the next few minutes telling my mother the plan, emphasising my words with hand gestures. </p><p>"So basically," she sums up, "we have the districts unite through the people you saved, and remind the people of the Capitol what horrors the last war created, hoping that they won't decide to attack, right?" I nod enthusiastically. She rolls her eyes. "Well I guess we could try... PEETA!" She yells through the house, and when father arrives she fills him in on the plan. </p><p>For the next month, we start making arrangements for the plan. Each day we reach a step closer to freedom. </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>"Maysillee!" My mother calls from downstairs, "There's someone here to see you."</p><p>Grabbing my plans and shoving them under my bed, I rush down to see Thomas standing at the door. <br/>I gulp. "Thomas." </p><p>"Maysillee." </p><p>An awkward silence fills the room, with Rue playing with our younger siblings in the other room being the only noise. </p><p>Thomas clears his throat. "I'm, um... Here to update on the other districts." He follows through on that, informing us that all of the districts have now agreed to help us. </p><p>"Okay. Thank you Thomas."</p><p>"And... To say..." He becomes overly interested with his shoes. "To say Thankyou." He looks up at me again now. "I tried to kill you in that arena, but you let me go, you could have died after you sent me home, but you did it anyway." He looks over at Katniss who is standing there shocked by this as much as I am. "I should probably go..." He glances back at me, "goodbye Maysillee." </p><p>🌸🌺🌸</p><p>That night, I dream of Heather again. I am still in my room, and she is sitting at the end of my bed. </p><p>She smiles at me when I notice her. "You did well, and I'm sure the plan will come through."</p><p>I sit up slightly in my bed. "But what if it doesn't? That could lead to all out war, and that would destroy the whole point of it alone with all of us." </p><p>She grins again, a kindly grin, an older sisterly grin. "Believe. Take a chance. A leap of faith is sometimes good for you." </p><p>I smile, laughter bubbling to the surface. "Okay, but you have to help me lead the charge." </p><p>She giggles a little, "I'll do my best." </p><p>Then she faded away and I woke up in my real room. </p><p>The future of our country is going to change tomorrow and I'll be leading the charge with a ghost by my side and 13 teen 'victors' pulling along their districts. </p><p>This is going to be one wild ride.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Note:</p><p>Okay, I was thinking of leaving it there. If you think I should continue, comment, and I'll see what I can do. Well, I hope you enjoyed this story, even with my weird writing style. Love you all, and I hope to entertain you with further books and read whatever wonderful writing you have created. <br/>Till other stories ~ Mabel</p>
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